


Honey Blossom

by 2Atoms



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, No Smut, dancer!Trixie, reluctant dancer!Katya, spoilers: they dont, they meet at a dance competition! and theyre meant to hate each other!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 19:15:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16225550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2Atoms/pseuds/2Atoms
Summary: Katya is an ex-dancer who gets roped into competing in Seoul, helping out Alyssa with her teenage dance group. She'd rather be literally anywhere else in the world.Katya changes her mind when she runs into a very sweet injured dancer, who needs her help.





	Honey Blossom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lulufeca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulufeca/gifts).



Katya slept most of the way to Seoul, letting the jokes and worries of the other dancers wash over her whilst she dozed in the back of the minibus. She had only joined the South Korea trip at the last minute, after a pleading phone call from an old friend. She’d known Alyssa since college, and the woman had seen Katya through some tough times. Nowadays they were both settled adults, comfortable in themselves and working jobs they could enjoy. Katya was and established and successful physiotherapist, highly qualified and working for herself. She had a crowd of loyal customers, a network of colleagues, and a healthy enough income to live alone. Alyssa, on the other hand, worked long hours at her own recently established dance studio. From young kids to adults with special needs, she was like a second mother to her dancers. It was fulfilling, she loved it, and Katya knew this young adult group was her passion project.

For that reason alone, Katya helped out there occasionally. She could call on her own dancing past, working with the kids and helping them with audition tapes. Alyssa had been over them moon when, for once, the group had been selected for an international competition. And now Katya had been roped into coming.

Alyssa was manic, ecstatic, incredibly proud of the girls, and desperate for a win. On the way to the hotel she went over and over their routines, performing carefully choreographed steps in the aisle of their minibus until their driver barked for her to “Sit!” It made the other girls in the dance crew laugh, and Alyssa muttered angrily under her breath as she sat down. The choreographer spent the rest of the hour-long journey fielding relentless questions from her excited dancers, some of whom were barely eighteen. Katya smiled against the window, ignoring the chatter and closing her eyes against the bright lights flashing by outside. She’d agreed to come at the last minute, at Alyssa’s insistence that an odd number of dancers was a strict necessity. Clearing her schedule had been stressful, and Katya lamented the overtime she’d have to do to catch up with clients - but supporting Alyssa’s project was the least she could do. The seven of them were a mismatched bunch, with differing heights, weights, races and ages. Still, they were a family.

They were unlike a lot of the other dance groups attending the convention, each of them specialising in different styles of dance. They were individually talented, but it took a lot of wrangling from Alyssa to get them in sync. Despite that, Katya supposed, they were good enough to be invited to the live dance-offs. The organisers of the show paid for them to be flown out to South Korea (economy class, but she couldn’t complain) and put up in some fancy hotel opposite the convention centre. There were worse ways to spend a long weekend.

The hotel was predictably packed. It seemed like the whole thing was booked out for the convention, and between the performers, staff and fans couldn’t have been a single room to spare. Katya was glad she didn’t have to be involved with the logistics. The hotel staff were all polite, the building was clean and modern in design, obviously new and presumably hideously expensive.

 Katya lugged her lone suitcase across the lobby, looking around whilst the rest of the group collected their room cards. Despite the competition being a day away, most of the other groups were already clad in co-ordinated outfits. Leather, lace, preppy hi-tops, neon and impractically cut suits all intermingled. It struck Katya just how _young_ they all looked. She was barely pushing thirty, Alyssa and one of the other dancers were almost the same age, but she still felt out of place. Looking around the room Katya could mostly identify with the exasperated older people: all managers or parents, she guessed, each afflicted with deep eye-bags and increasingly red, sweaty faces.

Hotel guests swarmed around her, and Katya struggled not to feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of bodies in the lobby. Her anxiety was bubbling away, growing hot in her chest, and she hoped desperately that Alyssa had managed to reach the front of the check-in queue.

No such luck.

There were competitors from all over the world, dozens of different languages resonated across the marble hall. The diversity of cultures was exciting, and Katya found herself staring at each new team who walked through the door. The loudest, however, were another American group. They trotted in formation behind a woman with a severe face, a high black bun, and a suit carefully tailored to show a ridiculous amount of cleavage. ‘Visage’ as Katya heard one of the girls call her, lead them in a seemingly-co-ordinated path across the hotel lobby floor.

All of the girls were in varying amounts of pink, obviously fresh from the airport. They were mostly young and skinny, with tight ballerina buns and highlight-dusted faces. Oh, to be young. They moved as a pack, huddled together and looking around, overwhelmed, at the high ceilings and other groups. There was only five of them, plus the manager, in a sea of much larger groups. Even as other people got in the way, there was still one dancer Katya could see over the crowd. She was taller than the rest, almost half a head above them, and bleach blonde. She caught sight of Katya, during one of her sweeping glances across the room, and smiled politely to the older woman. Katya blushed, suddenly aware of her own sweaty, tired appearance. Her flyaways and smudged lipstick made Katya feel like she shouldn’t be allowed in the same room as the blonde, with her perfect makeup and carefully curled hair. Katya couldn’t quite remember why she’d been so opposed to this trip in the first place.

The encounter left Katya flushed, from a mixture of embarrassment and want. Nonetheless, her exhaustion was steadily worsening, a deepening energy deficit that left her swaying on her feet and struggling to find her balance. Fortunately, Ginger – one of the other dancers in her group – guided Katya towards the elevators. Ginger was probably around Katya’s age, and she often tried to bridge the gap between Katya and the younger girls. She’d include her in conversations and invite her out with them, always keen to have everyone together. Whilst Katya appreciated the effort, it never made much difference. There was clear mutual respect between all the dancers, and that was enough for Alyssa to be satisfied with their ‘chemistry’. Whatever.

A keycard was pressed into her hand, and Katya followed the flow of other visitors into the elevators. The other girls all selected the floors they needed, and Katya barely noticed them leaving in her sleepy state.

“Everyone else paired off, missy, so you get a room to yourself!” Alyssa told her, leaving the lift car with a flourish. As if Katya would have been willing to share a room. That would’ve been the last straw on this unwanted trip. Although she was grateful for the solitude, she was now surrounded by strangers, and she shuffled her way to the lift buttons to guess at the floor she needed.

 

* * *

 

The hotel room was underwhelming. Exactly what she’d expected but with crappier lighting and no bathtub. Nice.

Katya threw herself on the bed, kicked her shoes off, and flicked through the overly-fancy pages of the hotel room guestbook for the Wi-Fi password. She knew the younger girls would still be bouncy, full of energy, and ready to party, but she still groaned as her message notifications came through. Fuck, they’re all meeting up. Ginger, Alyssa and Adore had all personally invited her, so it would be rude to say no. She supposed.

 

* * *

 

At least it’s in one of their hotel rooms, Katya rationalised. She couldn’t be bothered to put on her shoes. Or redo her makeup. Her exhausted-looking self would have to do. Katya didn’t bother with the elevator, just padded down the stairs the couple of floors to DeLa’s room. She didn’t even finish knocking before the door swung open, the cheery faces of two girls greeting at her. Shangie and Adore. She greeted the teenagers, smiling at them. She had a soft spot for Adore, seeing a lot of herself in the younger girl. The others were all drinking spirits but Adore produced a can of soda from her bag, and it warmed Katya’s heart when she realised that Adore must have been saving it especially for her.

The tender moment was broken by a screeching round of laughter, in response to something on one of their phones. Adore left with a shy smile to go and look.

Somehow, in the time Katya had been upstairs, all the girls had already gotten drunk. They were clearly taking advantage of the South Korean drinking age of 19, and she suspected Alyssa would have been telling them off is she wasn’t already wasted.

Katya sighed. She could remember being that age, relying on illegal booze to feel happy and sociable. Now she was more stable. Her sobriety was more important to her than fitting in. So she perched herself on the only flat surface left in the room (a faux-pine desk, which creaked as she sat down) and listened in to their conversation. It felt like being in a bubble, watching the chaos escalating around her. Each girl got steadily louder, mixing increasingly ridiculous drinks and becoming sloppier and sillier. Katya clasped her single can of coke close to her chest, taking sips slow enough that she wouldn’t have to ask anyone for a second drink.

Just as Adore wrapped up a story about ‘ _some punk couple she screwed’_ Ginger prompted Alyssa to take back the reins. The drink made Alyssa even more brazen and exponentially more Texan; her drawl was near-comical with drink-induced slurring. She whistled loudly, causing all six of them to jump, and Shangela to swear loudly from shock.

“Okay Ladies! Time to do some prep for tomorrow. Any of y’all got a laptop?”

There was some shuffling before one of the girls produced a MacBook (it was Adore’s, judging by the vinyl band stickers plastered all over it). Alyssa typed something in, finding the page she wanted before propping the laptop up on one of the double beds in the room. The rest of the girls shuffled around, some sitting on the floor or the other bed, until all of them could see. Ginger adjusted the screen to make sure that Katya could see from her perch on the desk, shooting her an excited smile that Katya struggled to sincerely return.

Alyssa’s tactic for ‘strategy’ seemed to mostly comprise of watching competitors’ audition tapes. Their crew’s tape had been exceedingly popular, firstly with the dancers’ friends and families and then with the wider internet. Katya and Adore’s disinterested, punk vibe combined with the perky enthusiasm of the others contributed to the authentic, homely feel of the video. The promoters had said that their dysfunctional family looked good on screen. That was partly why Alyssa had been so desperate for Katya to come on the trip. She was another ‘proper’ adult, a damn good dancer, but she also been hugely popular with the online voters.

The group watched video after video of the other dance troops, but to Katya it all merged into one long stream of precisely synced moves and weirdly-layered clothes. For each crew Alyssa came up with scathing comments, initially about technical aspects of their performances but gradually just about their looks and song choices. It was bitchy and uncalled for, but the other dancers loved it, so Katya just stayed quiet.

By the dozenth competing group’s audition tape Katya found herself dozing off. She had no idea how much time passed as she floated in and out of the conversation, trying her best to stay awake as the others pored over every other group dance troupe she didn’t care to learn the name of. Katya had shuffled to the edge of the wooden desk, perched one foot on the surface so she could lie her head against a skinny-jean clad knee.

Finally, Alyssa slammed the laptop lid closed and launched into yet another pep talk, explaining in thoroughly hyperbolic terms why, exactly, their dance crew was the best one in the whole world. The drinks hadn’t run out yet, and she was still drawing energy out from somewhere. Jager bombs had to be the only excuse for this level of enthusiasm, Katya thought.

“Just hit your steps, and ignore the audience, ladies!” Alyssa concluded. The girls’ cheers filled the room, each shout slightly slurred.

“I ‘wanna see y’all up bright and early, you hear me? We’ll meet for breakfast at nine, kiddos.”

The other dancers’ chorus of ‘ _yess alyssa…_ ’ woke Katya from her daze, and she opened her eyes to see the choreographer standing over her.

“And what about you, Miss Katya?”

Katya snorted. She wasn’t one of the teenagers Alyssa could boss around like a teacher, they were almost the same age god dammit.

“Yesss _Missss_ _Edwardsssss_.” She mocked, pleased to see the dancers on the beds and floor snicker. Alyssa didn’t find it quite as funny.

“Go to bed, girl!”

Katya was already dragging herself to the door, saying a half-heated ‘ _goodbye’_ to the others. Alyssa got the last word. As usual.

 “Can’t have your old decrepit body giving up on us tomorrow. Be downstairs for nine.”

 

* * *

 

Breakfast was fine. The other dancers were all nervous – it was the first international competition most of them had appeared in – and Alyssa was trying to calm them down. Some of them were obviously hungover. Katya just smiled, nodded, and picked at her sugary bowl of cereal.

There were plenty of other groups in the hall, including the cotton-candy-lookin’ dance troupe from yesterday. A photographer hovered around, and the snap of the camera shutter made Katya flinch each time. Their strict manager was leaning over the girls, watching them pick at bowls of fruit and toast, and talking loudly about their later performance. None of the girls looked particularly upset by the New-Jersey-accented shouting, although their smiles were clearly as painted on as their precisely-exaggerated eyeliner. It made Katya a bit more grateful for Alyssa.

 

* * *

 

Alyssa and Ginger lead the charge over to the convention centre, pointing out landmarks on the very short walk across the plaza. There was only so much Katya could hear about which companies owned which buildings, so she remained at the back of the pack, overheating in her uncomfortable costume.

The girls all wore some variation on red and black, ranging from fluffy tulle dresses to Katya’s pleather shorts and red shirt. Fortunately, it wasn’t a huge departure from Katya’s typical style, with unchanged red lips and messy, teased hair. Adore was similarly dressed, and it brought Katya _so much_ joy to imagine Alyssa forcing her into red leggings. Her heavy rubber boots had been replaced by dance slippers, but apparently their choreographer had compromised, and let her wear a torn black band shirt stretched down over her hips. Adore must have been sweltering in her waist-length leather jacket, but feared one of the girls would hide it from her if she took it off.

Katya couldn’t quite bring herself to join in the chants Alyssa was leading, too embarrassed by the bemused stares of each Seoul resident who watched them pass. Ginger handed out their performer passes for the show, making Katya pinkie-promise not to lose hers, before setting them free on the steps of the convention centre. There was a hold up whilst all the competitors had their bags searched, and Katya could only imagine the chaos to come in an hour when the audiences arrived. She crossed the huge spectator area, found the right backstage pen for their group (once again confronting the fact their _actual group name_ was ‘ _RIOT’_ ) and began to warm up, anticipating the half-dozen run throughs Alyssa would insist on before their qualifier performance.

In a deep pigeon stretch, Katya took the chance to look around the room. Aja and DeLa from her group were chatting nearby, getting shifty looks from a group of dancers dressed in a Lolita style. It occurred to Katya that this might be an all-girls’ competition. Maybe she’d ask Alyssa later. Nearby was the group she’d seen at breakfast, trussed up in stretchy pink leotards with yellow accessories. Their sign confirmed Katya’s suspicions. Alyssa had been worried about this group, admitting that she thought they were particularly strong competition. None of the girls looked happy, just exhausted and perfectly dressed. ‘ _Honey_ _Blossom’_ were being organised by the severe woman she had assumed to be their manager, ‘Visage’. Alyssa seemed to know her, having a curt conversation with the woman before stalking over to where Katya was stretching.

The blonde who had caught Katya’s attention yesterday was at the back of the group, stretching on the floor in a corner of the pen. Katya kept waiting for an opportunity to wave at her, but she never looked up from the floor, then her makeup mirror. Katya gave up.

“Bitch.” Alyssa spat, so only Katya could hear. Katya snorted, unfolding her body to her full height. She swayed for a second before her balance returned. She gave Alyssa her full attention.

“She used to be my dance teacher, for two whole years, but apparently she doesn’t even remember me. Can you imagine if _ever_ forgot one of my girls?”

Alyssa’s tone seemed a little sad, and Katya stroked a hand across the woman’s back in comfort. Then a thought struck her.

“So they’re from L.A.?”

“Michelle Visage’s girls? Yeah. It’s more of an academy though, so those girls come from all over. All live in a big, weird house. Pays well.”

Katya nodded. Alyssa continued.

“That’s the adult crew. Although some of them look about twelve. I danced for them before college.”

They sounded a bit more threatening than _RIOT_ , who were just grateful for the free trip. The backstage reporters seemed to think so, too. A dozen camera crews and interviewers were swarming the group for photos and the chance to speak to the formidable _Visage._ Katya tried to give reassurance to the other _RIOT_ , who were watching in awe. Katya tried not to let on that even she felt intimidated.

Their group were second to go on stage, which was never a great slot. It took less than an hour for the show floor to fill up, with every seat in the spectator area taken up. Katya was surprised to feel nerves in the pit of her stomach - she thought she’d grown out of stage fright. Nonetheless, when she follows the group to the stage its with steady legs and a calm expression. It was important to lead by example, encouraging the other girls. Even if internally was completely panicking.

Katya’s heart’s not in the performance.

The dance was familiar, each move drilled into them by Alyssa with millimetre-accurate precision. It’s the same routine they performed for the audition tape, showcasing each of their respective talents. For Katya, the dance ends with a deep split (admittedly it’s a little unusual for this competition, it sets them apart) and the cheers of the crowd barely register. Her thighs burn as they vacate the stage, the teenage dancers all giggling and bouncing on their heels from the adrenaline rush.

“Nice work, ladies.” Alyssa drawled, high-fiving the younger girls. Katya couldn’t help smirking, glad the newcomers were having fun – she probably would’ve been equally excited some ten years ago. Alyssa forced her into a high-five too, making the girls laugh. Katya indulged them with a couple of ‘ _well done’_ s, groaning at the praise of the younger dancers, before heading to the backstage area to look for her bag.

When she emerged from the backstage performer area, nodding at the security guard outside the door, Katya saw her group seated in a roped-off performer area to the side of the stage. They had saved her a seat, right in the middle, and she forced herself to smile graciously before sitting down.

 

* * *

 

All three rounds of dances were all on one long, exhausting day. Katya couldn’t leave. She sat watching the other groups’ qualifying dances for hours, wondering where her passion for dance had gone. It used to be her whole life, every time and new dance form was exciting and new. The popularity of this K-Pop dance competition was huge, with international reach. Even appearing was great publicity for Alyssa’s fledgling studio. The event was being streamed live all over the world by the cameras swooping overhead, and presenters plastered on big plastic smiles to encourage the crowd.

Still, Katya found herself resisting the urge to escape, to go on her phone, knowing that the data costs would be extortionate. Instead she gazed around the hall, occupying herself by trying to figure out the backstory for every single person there. On stage were another group of (what Katya presumed to be) teenagers. They were all relatively on-beat, had nice costumes, but overall Katya found the performance underwhelming. The most impressive part of the whole thing were the dance moms in the aisles, unhelpfully dancing along with their kids Mean-Girls-mom style. Katya found herself more focused on watching the moms than the stage, standing up to get a better look until Adore dragged her back down into her seat.

Katya took the chance to escape in a gap between performances, climbing over the others and excusing herself. The flashing lights were overwhelming, and she was getting a headache from the strobing. All the sounds too loud, there were too many people, the clapping felt fake, and the music echoed horribly in the oversized hall. The whole event was wearing thin, and Katya had to leave. She checked she had her badge before leaving the convention hall, trying to avoid the watchful eyes of other groups.

 

* * *

 

Three staircases took Katya far enough away from the main hall to find an empty bathroom, and she leant on the row of sinks to catch her breath. Deep breaths and mindfulness had always helped Katya calm herself down, and even though she wasn’t panicking now it still helped. She was totally shocked when, a few moments later, someone else burst through the door.

“Oh! Hi!”

“Hey, you’re from that pink group, right?” Katya greeted her immediately, thrilled to finally have an opportunity to talk to the taller dancer she’d waved to yesterday.

The blonde looked up, letting Katya appreciate her artfully applied makeup. The white lines underlining her eyes were perfectly symmetrical, a faint blush covering her cheeks was applied with obvious careful control, and the lipliner still left on her face was still near-perfect. She had to have been the woman Katya noticed yesterday, there was no one else here like her, standing far taller than Katya herself with phenomenally styled blonde hair.

She gasped as she stood to her full height, wincing slightly and putting all her weight on one leg. Katya darted forwards to offer some help, but she was waved off.

“Yeah, I guess? _Honey Blossom_ , it’s called.”

The woman had a strong midwestern accent, one that Katya couldn’t precisely place. It was both charming and unexpected. Fortunately, Katya’s derisive laugh at her group name didn’t seem to offend her. Instead, it was met with a chuckle.

“Yeah. I know. It’s bad. I’m Trixie, by the way.”

Katya stuck out her hand. “Katya. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Trixie took her hand gently, holding rather than shaking it. Her costume was slightly different to the other girls in her group, essentially a nightdress, made in floaty pink material exactly the same shade as the others. Honeycomb temporary tattoos wrapped the tops of her thighs, and tacky yellow jewellery adorned both her ears and wrists. Their director milked the ‘honey’ thing for all it was worth, apparently.

“Your manager seems… passionate.” Katya tried, hoping for another laugh from the other woman.

“Yeah, totally. She’s kind of crazy. She wants the best for us though. Like a pushy showbiz mom.” Trixie smiled a little, twisting her bracelet around one wrist with the other hand. Katya tried to smile encouragingly.

“Our lead dancer used to work with her, back in the sixties or whatever.”  

 “Is that the shouty one? She’s kinda scary!” Trixie told her.

“You think Alyssa’s scary? What about Visage _!_ She’s like a dance mom from hell! Terrifying!” Trixie giggled, looking a little guilty about laughing. Still, Katya took it as a sign to continue. “At least Alyssa dances _with_ us! Instead of just… _watching._ That must be so much pressure!”

“It’s pretty intense.” Trixie conceded, moving to lean against the mirror, taking one foot off the ground. “Although she does look after us, at least.”

Katya hummed, trying to sound sympathetic. She wanted to know more about Trixie, without making the girl feel uncomfortable or interrogated. Fortunately, Trixie kept talking.

“We all live together. Which isn’t as weird as it sounds. So she makes sure we’re all okay and well fed and everything. I’ve been with the academy for almost two and a half years now.”

Everything new she learnt about Trixie just made her more intrigued. Katya felt so charmed by Trixie’s nervousness and dry tone, she forgot to talk for a second. “That’s cute!”

Trixie giggled. Which was also cute. She shifted in her leaning position against the mirror, wincing as her previously-elevated foot had to bear weight. She quickly continued talking before Katya could mention it.

“I guess so! The other girls like her, and its fun to live with a big group. They’re all a lot younger though. And pretty messy.”

Katya totally forgot her anxiety about the competition as they talked. It felt natural, to get to know Trixie. They discussed how each of them ended up in L.A., about Trixie’s friends in the group, and growing up in the middle of nowhere. At every opportunity, Katya reflected conversations back onto Trixie. She wasn’t keen to bore Trixie with any details of her own life, she would much rather hear about the exploits of a pretty, currently-working dancer, about her crazy La-La-Land experience, to hear her talk about it with all the shine and novelty that had long passed Katya by. It helped that Trixie really loved talking about herself. Occasionally she would remember to give Katya the chance to talk, pierce her with those dark brown eyes and pout slightly while Katya tried to string a sentence together. Nonetheless, Katya got the distinct impression that each question was only asked out of polite courtesy, or because Trixie wanted a zany reply. Mostly Katya got to listen.

It suited her, to listen to other people. Occasionally she would get a chatty client, who treated her like a psychiatrist more than a physiotherapist, and she’d find some comfort hearing other people’s problems. Knowing she was helping their souls as much as their bodies. She was especially keen to try and lighten Trixie’s burdens. She certainly seemed to have a lot of them.

“Honestly, I’m too old to be here. I’m just waiting for Michelle to tell me to leave.”

Katya’s first reaction was to coo, to tell her ‘no!’ But Trixie wasn’t looking for a compliment. She was already talking over Katya, onto the next thought.

“Sorry for disturbing you, by the way. I just wanted some quiet, and I saw you head up the stairs, and it was just… a good idea.” Trixie sighed, looking uncomfortably down at the floor.

“Are you okay?” Katya was suddenly concerned.

“Yeah,” she sighed, “just…It’s stupid but… I’ve hurt my foot and… I don’t want to let anyone down… but Michelle’s pushing us and it really fucking _hurts_ , y’know?”

Tears flooded Trixie’s eyes, and she continued to stare down at the floor, slightly shielding her expression from Katya. She made no attempt to hide her physical discomfort, fully standing flamingo-style to relieve the pain in her foot. Katya immediately tried to find somewhere more comfortable to settle her.

The sinks were freestanding, so a closed toilet seat was the only place for Trixie to sit. Katya helped her stumble across the bathroom, letting the larger girl lean on her as she tried to walk. With each step on her injured foot Trixie heaved a sharp intake of breath, and Katya could almost feel the pain herself. She could empathise, having had her own share of near-career-ending injuries, and wondered if it would be inappropriate to hug this near-stranger.

Once Trixie was sat down, the weight off her feet, Katya lingered outside the open cubicle door. The conversation broke off while Trixie settled, tentatively stretching out her leg and wiping her eyes. _Sorry_ she murmured, sniffling and wiping her eyes roughly. Katya crouched down in front of Trixie’s bare legs, close enough to see where the fake tattoos were wrinkling and peeling on her pale skin. She handed a wad of toilet paper to Trixie, guiding her in dabbing at her eyes. Katya tried to be gentle when she spoke next.

“Honey… you can’t dance like this.”

Trixie snorted out a gross, watery laugh. It made Katya look up at her sadly, brushing a comforting hand over her knee. Behind her derisive manner, Katya could see the worry and pain in Trixie’s watery, chocolate-brown eyes.

“I’m serious. You’re gonna damage that ankle even more.”

Her crying restarted, but Katya stood her ground. She couldn’t responsibly let Trixie cause herself any more pain, no matter how upsetting missing this contest could be.

 

* * *

 

After their conversation in the bathrooms, neither of them felt ready to rejoin their respective groups quite yet. Trixie could still walk, albeit tentatively, so they stayed behind the crowds at the back of the show floor. The two sat on a flight of emergency-exit-only stairs, listening to the presenters’ amplified voices as the group scores were announced.

Evidently some of the girls couldn’t dance live, and they were brought onstage for a final applause before swiftly leaving the competition. There were cheers from the remaining teams as their names were announced for the semi-finals. Both Katya’s group and _Honey_ _Blossom_ got high scores, sailing through to the semi-finals, and Trixie struggled to look pleased as the rest of her group did, Michelle and the four other girls’ reactions projected onto the big screens. Katya leant into Trixie’s sympathetically, filling her lungs with a deep sigh in time with the other girl. They sat together on the stairs a little longer, listening to the announcer ramble on. Neither of them felt any motivation to move, jet-lag and physical exhaustion weighing their bodies down like sandbags.

Trixie’s phone was buzzing relentlessly, and she finally groaned and pulled it out of a pocket. Katya fished her own mobile out of her sports bra, wiping the sweat and makeup off it before checking her messages. She’d been ignoring it for almost two hours. Predictably, dozens of group and personal messages from other dancers had mounted up. She dismissed the notifications without even bothering to read them.

Trixie, however, was shifting uncomfortably. From what she’d seen, Katya presumed Trixie’s manager and fellow dancers wouldn’t be as forgiving as her own. Katya could have played hooky forever, but Trixie looked pretty stressed out by the relentless calls and messages she’d been missing. Her suspicions were confirmed when the younger dancer turned her pouting face towards Katya to speak.

“I have to get back,” she told her morosely. “I’ll see you later, Katya.”

“You’re not seriously going to perform? You’ll hurt yourself even more, Trixie!”

The younger woman didn’t offer her any response, just a resigned sigh, and all of Katya’s offers to escort her backstage were quickly waved off. Katya watched sadly as Trixie limped across the show floor. She was obviously trying to look unaffected, glancing back to the stairs where Katya was perched. Katya waved her off, contemplating how long exactly she could avoid the other _RIOT_ dancers.

 

* * *

 

Katya had missed Trixie’s first performance, it had taken place while their group was still winding down backstage, so she quickly found her seat to watch the second one. Just as Katya clambered over spectators towards the empty chair, Alyssa returned. Presumably she had been speaking to some show officials. The older dancer glared daggers at Katya, returning to her own seat rather more elegantly than the blonde woman had. Katya didn’t have any shame about disappearing, not even bothering to look sheepish as Alyssa clicked and tutted at her.

“We’re on second-last, ladies.” She announced, spectacularly failing to whisper as the overhead lights dimmed for another round of performances.

 

* * *

 

Katya really did try to be engaged with the competition. She tried to watch each group like a regular spectator, to detach herself from her dancing education and just appreciate the rhythm and physical ability of the performers. The bright lights and loud, bubbly music didn’t even manage to drag her out of her daze. Katya could appreciate the passion and energy each group poured into their choreography, but it only made her sadder about Trixie’s injury. She wouldn’t be able to dance to her full potential, no matter how determined she seemed. Trying would probably cause her further injury, and Katya contemplated whether it would be weird to offer her free physiotherapy back in L.A. Probably.

For the next act, the lights turned red-toned. Katya had absentmindedly joined the applause for a previous group of girls, who had danced something relatively low-skill, but shockingly synchronised. To an AOA song, maybe? She’s not sure. But _Honey Blossom_ had just been announced. Their name was being displayed on LCD screens, and Alyssa craned her neck to see where Michelle Visage was ushering the girls onto the stage one by one.

They all stride across the stage with perfect form. Except for Trixie.

Katya winced at the slight stumble Trixie took heading onto the stage. It was admittedly still in the shadows but noticeable if you were watching.

They had changed costumes. Each girl had a magenta-pink custom-fitted leotard, complimented by a series of cream-white accessories. They all looked great, but it was like the costume was chosen specifically for Trixie. Each of the girls wore clean white dance slippers, and Katya knew damn well they wouldn’t do anything good for a bad ankle. Still, at least they weren’t high heels.

 Jesus Christ, Trixie was wearing white garters. 

She was also, evidently, in a lot of pain.

The track was Bloom, by Gain. The song was punctuated by guitar riffs, opportunities for Trixie thrust and drop to the ground and twist around in the middle of the stage. She was the centrepiece of the group, acting like a crowning jewel with two performers either side of her. The others occasionally had solos, taking the crowd’s attention, but nothing could distract Katya from Trixie. Undeniably, though, her injury caused her problems.

Katya suspected that a few of her moves had been toned down, made less impactful for her. Nonetheless, she made a valiant attempt at each move. She didn’t quite bounce like the other dancers, slightly heavier on her feet but still managing to flirt with the audience and judging panel.

It was so much more intense, sexy, and inspired than anything else performed so far. Katya was enthralled.

 

* * *

 

They watched a couple more dances before Alyssa began furiously tapping each of them on the shoulders, ushering them backstage in the downtime between performances. Katya quickly surveys the pens backstage to spot Trixie, but she can’t see the blonde woman. There was a crowd in the _Honey Blossom_ area, and Katya tried to avoid the nagging worry that they’re gathered around Trixie. She had to dial down her anxiety about her new friend and channel it towards the performance. They end up in the wings of the stage far too soon, with Katya struggling to focus all of her energy on the performance.

Their semi-finals routine was the one Alyssa had spent the most time working on. It was intricate and high-skill, with absolutely no room for error, and one of very few dances set to boyband songs. Adore and Katya had been the most psyched about it, loving every single rehearsal session. Initially, Katya had just intended to teach Adore, then let her go and dance lead alone. However, Alyssa had been totally enamoured with how in-sync the two of them were, having practiced each fast movement over and over again together after hours in the dance centre. Now, they had the opportunity to finally show off their hard work.

Katya relished the single-minded nature of performing such a complex routine. She could shut down any part of her brain that wasn’t contributing to hitting each beat, tensing her muscles, perfecting her form, focusing solely on her body.

Like the qualifier round, their performance was a blur to Katya. The last notes of their ‘2PM’ song were deafening, ringing through the convention centre speakers, and Katya held her face in a competition-width smile until Alyssa lead them in a bow. She guided them off the stage in a practiced line, and each dancer remaining totally silent until the stage lights dimmed. Suddenly, backstage, Katya was aware of the sweat pouring off her. She was shaking.

The lights were hot, the music hurt her ears, and white dots were still flashing behind her eyelids. Nonetheless, the other girls giggled and clapped, jumped and hugged each other. Katya forced a stage smile back onto her face, and actually found herself buoyed by the sincere happiness of the other women. Once they all calmed down, and the next group’s song played over the system, Katya noticed the crowd at the _Honey Blossom_ booth had slightly dissipated. The others barely noticed as she slipped away – they were already going over notes with Alyssa – and she quickly jogged over to the pen.

The group had, apparently, been gathered around Trixie earlier. The other girls quickly scattered as Katya approached, and Trixie buried her face in her hands when she saw Katya. Her makeup was smudged all across her reddened face, and she was collapsed on the floor with both legs laid out in front of her. It was upsetting for Katya to watch, especially in contrast to the woman she’d met earlier. Both of Trixie’s flimsy dance shoes were off, and thrown on the floor a few feet away.

Katya eased herself down the temporary pen wall next to Trixie, watching surprised as all of her fellow dancers disappeared back to the show floor. It hurt Katya’s heart a little to see how easily her dance crew ‘sisters’ abandoned Trixie. One of the girls, blonde with a distinct square jawline, gave her a glower as she walked past. Katya held her ground, watching her as she stalked back out the double doors to join the crowd.

Now she was closer, Katya could see the severity of Trixie’s injury. The ankle itself was only bruised in places, but it was clearly excruciatingly painful. Agony played out across Trixie’s face, in the tensing of her muscles and the tentative way she moved. With reddened eyes and a defeated expression, she turned to Katya.

“You were right. That hurt so fucking bad, Katya.”

“Oh, sweetheart…” Katya didn’t know what else to say. Or why Trixie’s ‘dance family’ had left her so quickly. Weird.

“I know you warned me, it’s my fault, but…” Trixie trailed off sadly, search Katya’s face for a reaction.

“It’s okay, I get it. You were really good, still. Though.”

Trixie snorted, the sound coming out slightly wet after crying. “Thanks, but I wasn’t. I don’t know why Michelle told me to do it, she’s really mad at me.”

“Michelle? Your manager?”

Trixie nodded, failing to make her watery smile reach her eyes. Katya was angry.

“She shouldn’t have told you to do perform. If she was a real manager she’d care about your future. This injury could be permanent, Trixie.”

Trixie’s face fell even further, and Katya immediately regretted telling her how severe the damage could be. Still, it was true.

A glance around the room revealed that Michelle was embroiled in another interview, almost certainly playing up Trixie’s injury for sympathy. The other _Honey Blossom_ dancers were in the background, impressively stretching and posing for the cameras. Katya decided to change the subject.

“Where did the other girls go?”

Trixie sighed, rolling her head back against the flimsy walls that divided _Honey Blossom_ ’s backstage area from the next groups’.

“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t care. They’re all mad at me too.”

Katya groaned. “Trixie, why could they possibly be mad at you? You performed, and did the best you could!” Katya checked Trixie wasn’t too upset before she added, “Even if you shouldn’t have.”

Trixie laughed hollowly, peering past Katya’s head to watch the performers milling around outside. Occasionally one of them would give Trixie an exaggerated sympathetic look, with most of them bordering on patronising. Trixie wasn’t dominating their conversation anymore, and it was an obvious contrast to earlier. The pain must be really affecting her.

The two women sat together for the remainder of the stage performances, watching dance groups file on and off the stage, and making light conversation between blaring K-Pop tracks. It was calming, helping both performers to pretend their problems were a little more distant. Fortunately, one of the other older competitors offered Trixie painkillers, and it appeared to take the edge off the pain. Still, she didn’t make any move to stand.

Finally, when the eighth group had performed and a judging break was announced, both women were forced back to reality. The four finalist groups were about to be announced, and all the dancers had to be in the audience. Michelle broke free of her adoring legion of fans and interviewers long enough to demand Trixie join her other girls, rudely informing Katya that she should do the same. Resisting the urge to argue, Katya helped Trixie struggle to her feet. Any effects from the painkillers had worn off, apparently, because just standing up caused tears to gather in Trixie’s eyes.

“You’ve gotta let me look at that ankle later.” Katya insisted, regretting that she hadn’t offered earlier. Not that Trixie would have let her.

On the way back to her seat, with Katya helping her to stand, Trixie nodded decisively. Katya found that she couldn’t wait until ‘later’. At least Trixie had agreed to see her again.

 

* * *

 

It was a long walk to the other side of the convention hall, through a bustling crowd that struggled to part for them. Trixie leant on Katya heavily, causing the smaller woman to break a sweat. She never complained, though, reassuring Trixie every single time she uttered a single ‘ _sorry’_ or self-depreciating comment. Whilst Katya regretted being the only person to help Trixie, she wasn’t about to let this funny, kind-hearted woman down.

 _Honey Blossom_ had been reserved seats in their front-row, and the other dancers in the group watched down their noses as Katya helped Trixie. None of them bothered to move out of their way or help, apparently more focussed on their nails or tightening corsets. Katya was horrified by their lack of sportsmanship, and Trixie just rolled her eyes at the women’s behaviour.

Katya loitered around Trixie until the announcers returned to the stage. She jogged around the room to her empty seat next to Alyssa, avoiding various cameramen and dance moms, and didn’t even get a ‘tut’ from the choreographer for her last return. This really was important to Alyssa, she realised. Part of Katya wondered if she should have been there to comfort her oldest friend, instead of Trixie. She’d known Alyssa longer than anyone else there (although Ginger was a close contender). A look across the room, to where a glassy-eyed Trixie was watching her, quickly made up Katya’s mind. No. She had a more important job than the dance contest today.

 _RIOT_ don’t make it through to the finals, and part of Katya is pleased. The rest of her group had groaned as the scores are announced. Their semi-final points weren’t bad, fairly average, but not enough for this high-stakes competition. Katya was proud of the girls anyway.

Despite Alyssa’s visible disappointment. Katya never had high expectations. Plus, she was fucking exhausted. She could barely even remember the steps to their finale routine. _Honey Blossom_ are the third highest scorers, and she can see Trixie on the big screens, faking a smile under the watchful eyes of her manager. On-camera-Trixie is talking to her teammates. Katya can’t hear what she’s saying – they’re at opposite ends of the loud room – but the other girls comfort her and rub her shoulders performatively. It’s a far cry from their earlier off-camera hostility.

The rest of the announcements go on forever. By the time Katya manages to return to Trixie, following commiseration with the other girls (they’re going to the bar, Alyssa’s promised them some fun local cocktails) most of the other _Honey Blossom_ dancers have made themselves scarce. They return from backstage a couple at a time, dressed in new flowy, peach-coloured costumes, as Katya talks to Trixie.

“Are you okay, honey?”

It’s a stupid question, and Katya realises that soon as she asks. Nonetheless, Trixie seemed grateful that _someone_ was worried about her. Katya moved someone’s bag off the seat next to Trixie, and sat down to comfort the woman. Trixie was about to reply, when she looked up in shock.

“Can I help you?”

It was Michelle Visage. Shit.

Katya feels like she’s hearing a headteacher, transported back to detentions after high school. But she’s not going to be intimidated by this woman. Not now she’s a fully-grown adult.

“I’m just checking that Trixie is alright. You are aware of her career-threatening injury, I trust?”

She can’t turn back to look at Trixie, feeling the girl’s clammy hand fall from hers as she stands to face Michelle.

“That’s none of your business. I’ll ask that you my girls alone, before I have you escorted from the premises.”

Katya didn’t bother with a witty comeback, she just outright laughed. The older woman looked offended, it’s evident on her face despite a layer of thick makeup.

“I’m a dancer here, you can’t have me _evicted._ If you hadn’t noticed, one of _your_ _girls_ needs medical attention. Or at least someone to give a shit.” Katya informed her coldly.

She wished she was more eloquent, but the anger she felt on Trixie’s behalf was white hot and blinding. Trixie brushed a hand against Katya’s thigh, subtly, trying to calm her down. Visage scoffed, crossing both arms under her chest.

“One of Miss Edwards’ girls, are you?” Her tone was distinctly condescending.

Katya nodded, not particularly caring if Visage knew the specifics of her situation. She’d have to defend Alyssa another time, this was about Trixie. Michelle considered her a moment before ending the conversation.

“We’ve got a final to prepare for, if you’ll excuse me.”

She sat to let Visage bustle past, hating the defeated way that Trixie stared into her own lap, hands wringing uncomfortably. The convention hall was loud around them, dancers and spectators rushing to prepare before the final round of performances began. Trixie had kicked one shoe off, exposing her ankle, which was swollen and red. There was nowhere Katya wanted to be less than the show audience right now. The other _Honey Blossom_ dancers had already returned to the backstage area in a swish of floral perfumes and airy fabric, taking bags and water bottles with them. Alyssa and the rest of Katya’s group were waiting to be served at the centre’s lone bar.

Either side of Trixie and Katya were rows of empty chairs, reserved for Trixie’s backstage teammates.

“You don’t have to stay.” She mumbles, even as her whole body is slumped onto Katya’s shoulder. She’s squished against Katya’s arm, soft and gentle, despite being a deadweight. Her skin is even softer than her leotard’s plush velour, light pink lines marked into her skin from her costume’s tight elastic. She smells of hairspray, some light flowery perfume, and a heavily applied deodorant.

Katya herself is sure she must reek of sweat, but if Trixie has noticed then she hasn’t been deterred.

“I won’t leave you alone.” Katya reassures her, delighted by Trixie’s smile against the exposed skin of her shoulder.

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Katya that Trixie didn’t change costume, no longer matching the rest of her group.

 _Honey Blossom’s_ final performance is off. It’s was obvious to Katya that they were missing their lead dancer. None of them missed a beat, they were polished and moved in perfect sync, but there were awkward pauses. That’s where Trixie would have played with the crowd, done an impressive solo move, injected her personality into the routine. Without her the dance is bland, indistinguishable from the other groups. It brought Katya a kind of sick joy to know how livid Visage must be, watching in horror from the wings of the stage. Maybe _Honey Blossom_ ’s failure would cheer Alyssa up. She drew Trixie a little closer, rubbing her arm.

The song wasn’t one Katya had ever heard of, but she could clearly visualise an uninjured Trixie moving to it. Knowing how many hours Trixie must have put into rehearsing her part put a lump in Katya’s throat. She hopes Trixie still gets perform it someday. A curly blonde ponytail brushed down Katya’s back, causing her to shiver.

Trixie wasn’t really watching, but when the song ended she sat up and cheered with the rest of the audience. Very obviously. Just in case the other girls were watching.

All four of them filed off the stage in a neat, practiced line. Trixie whispered next to Katya’s ear. “I wanna go.”

Visage’s shouting voice was audible from where they were sitting, even over the shuffling of the crowd. Katya knew Trixie must be feeling guilt, however misguided it was. She had no interest in staying to watch the rest of the event.

“Yeah. Absolutely. Do you have a bag or something?”

 

* * *

 

Trixie remained seated whilst Katya retrieved their stuff from backstage, grabbing her own bag before looking for Trixie’s. She’d been instructed to get it from the _Honey Blossom_ backstage pen: a shiny pink backpack with a tote bag under it. When she finally spotted Trixie’s stuff, in the corner they’d sat in earlier, it was behind a circle of the other four dancers. Fuck.

The women were obviously gossiping, filling the air around them with high pitched giggles and stage-whispers. Visage was on her phone, doing god knows what, paying her ‘girls’ no mind.

“I told Michelle she was unreliable. She should’ve fired her months ago, if you ask me.”

“No one asked you, Violet.” The blonde who’d stared out violet earlier added. The other girls laughed, even Michelle smirked down at her phone.

“She wouldn’t look good in these outfits anyway. Maybe now we’ll be able to get some proper clothes made.”

Katya didn’t want to hear any more. She shuffled around the group, leant down to grab Trixie’s bags. Her own backpack bumped Violet, but she didn’t care to apologise. One of them was talking to her, but she didn’t stop.

“Excuse me!” Michelle shouted after her, but Katya kept walking, and hiked Trixie’s bags onto her free shoulder. She wasn’t about to explain herself to that woman. She strolled out of the backstage area, spotting Trixie struggling to walk to the back of the room. Katya broke into a jog, reached Trixie to offer her an arm to lean on.

“Thanks,” she laughed, trying to relieve Katya of her overstuffed tote bag. Katya brushed her manicured hand away.

“Where do you wanna go?” Katya murmured to her, keeping an eye out for either Michelle or Alyssa. She took note of the way Trixie was still struggling to walk, and hoped wherever she wanted to go wasn’t up any stairs. Trixie just shook her head.

“I don’t know. My hotel room is shared with Willam and Pearl, and I don’t have a key, so…”

Katya took the hint.

“Do you want to go to my hotel? I’ve got my own room.” She hoped that didn’t sound creepy. “Not that… I don’t know. It’s up to you, obviously.”

Trixie cut her off with a giggle, nodding decidedly.

The walk out of the convention centre slow, and Katya’s back hurt from the weight of Trixie leaning on her. Although neither woman could bring themselves to care.

Katya couldn’t remember the last time she’d clicked with someone this quickly. It normally took months for her to trust anyone enough to be intimate, to hug, or to share emotional burdens. She’d known Trixie less than 24 hours. But this woman didn’t feel like a stranger, she felt like she fit Katya perfectly. More than any past girlfriend, any family member, Alyssa, or any of her other friends. Given a few months, this woman could know her inside out.

For now, though, they had to figure out their way back.

It turned out they were staying in the same hotel, the one booked by the competition organisers. Trixie leant on her heavily, apologising or whining with every step. Katya found it endearing, rather than annoying. For the first twenty minutes, at least.

When they finally made it through the door Katya dropped all of their bags onto the carpet, settled Trixie on a desk chair, then collapsed dramatically back onto her bed. Exhausted. She almost drifted off to sleep, with the soft bed underneath her she was completely at peace, nearly forgetting that Trixie was even there. It had been a long day, overshadowed by jetlag, and filled with emotional highs and lows and _so many_ new faces. It was tiring, to keep finding out about new people. Not least the new person in her room now. At least she really, really liked _this_ new person.

“This is nice.” Trixie commented dryly, shifting in her uncomfortable chair. Presumably she meant the room, but it might have been sarcastic. She didn’t look as peaceful as Katya felt. Katya should look after her.

“Do you want a drink, or something?”

Trixie nodded, and Katya searched around for the room service menu. She didn’t have anything here to offer Trixie, but she didn’t mind paying. Katya could settle up the bill with Alyssa tomorrow. There was no way in hell that she wanted to leave Trixie here alone and go back outside to buy dinner.

It took some negotiating, but Katya finally convinced Trixie into getting food. She called the reception to order, and Trixie smiled up at her. _Thank you_ she mouthed. Katya decided to get them desserts too.

Once Katya hung up the phone, she looked back over Trixie again.

“Right, missy. Let me have a look at that ankle of yours.”

It didn’t take much persuasion for Trixie to let her examine the injury. In fact, she was completely cooperative as Katya helped her move over onto the hotel-room bed. She had to hop on one leg, with Katya’s hands gripping around her waist and shoulder. When she was settled against the pillows, Katya gently ran her fingers over the injury.

As she’d predicted, Trixie’s ankle was swollen, bruised, but probably not broken or dislocated.

“That’s a grade three sprain.” She confirmed apologetically.

Trixie groaned. “What does that mean?”

“Well, that its sprained. Not broken. But, uh, grade three is the worst it can be.”

“How can you know that?”

“I’m only guessing, I’m not a doctor or anything. You should probably get it x-rayed, if you can. But I’d bet a lot of money on that being a third degree lateral sprain. How far can you move it?”

Trixie struggled to rotate the joint, whining as it barely moved. Her face flushed red from the pain, so Katya stopped her moving.

“Okay, so, that’s not great.” Katya tried to sound soothing and winced on Trixie’s behalf.

Trixie’s jaw was still dropped. “I mean, how did you know that?”

There was a knock on the door. Katya climbed off the bed, sauntered towards the door.

A porter helped her bring both trays inside, unfolding small tables to lay the food on. Katya rummaged through her bag for a bank note. Was five thousand enough in South Korean _won_? Maybe. The porter left anyway. She turned back to Trixie with a smile, joining her on the bed.

“I’m a physiotherapist, honey.” She reminded the younger woman.

 “Oh! I’m so sorry. I think you told me that, and I forgot.” Trixie’s cheeks were tinged pink, but Katya couldn’t care less.

“It’s been a long day. Really, don’t worry about it.”

When Trixie’s stomach growled, Katya dished out the food. They ate together silently, only discussing the meals (which were basically the same as any other American hotel food they’d had) and passing each other plates. It was just… nice. Katya couldn’t remember a time she’d been so in sync with another person.

When her main meal was done, Trixie immediately turned her attention to the desserts. She didn’t say anything, just put her plate aside and waited for Katya to offer her food.

Katya laughed, “You can have whichever one you want! I don’t care.” She shrugged.

Trixie didn’t give Katya any time to change her mind, lunging over the double bed to take the huge slice of chocolate cake from Katya’s side of the bed. Even without dark pink lipstick, which had rubbed off hours ago, her lips were plump and pink whilst she grinned cheekily at Katya. She was still dressed in her leotard and garters, but somehow it looked cute. Rather than ridiculous. Katya, on the other hand, was still uncomfortable in her heavy jacket and jeans. But her company hadn’t noticed.

“This is so good! Thank you, Katya!” Trixie managed to get out, between mouthfuls of cake. She leant back on the bed even closer to Katya, shoulders pressed together. “Tell me about your work!”

The older woman was more than happy to talk while Trixie ate, recounting a cleaned-up version of how she got into college, dance, physiotherapy, right through to helping Alyssa with the dance academy. Trixie nodded, listening intently to every word. It was therapeutic, to tell someone else all about herself, to be honest and to open in a way that she couldn’t with the people who knew her already. Trixie would make occasional comments, have some reactions that Katya hadn’t expected. It felt completely refreshing.

In the end, Katya let Trixie have most of her cheesecake too.

After dinner Katya cleared the plates away, and Trixie tried to help without disrupting her twisted ankle too much. Katya elevated Trixie’s foot on a pillow, before excusing herself to have a shower. It felt rude, to disappear and leave Trixie alone, but probably not as rude as simmering in her own sweat.

It was only about ten minutes before Katya re-emerged, dressed in sweats and with towel-dried hair. Trixie had moved, shuffled down the bed to sit right by the en suite door.

“Do you mind if I use the bathroom too? To wash my face and stuff?”

Katya stumbled over her words for a second, taken off guard by Trixie’s closeness.

“Oh, yeah, of course! Do you need any help?”

Katya helped Trixie stumble to the en suite, quickly attempting to clean up the makeup and products left strewn across the bathroom counter. Once Trixie was leant against the sink, Katya awkwardly backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

“I’ll just… be outside. Shout if you need me!”

 

* * *

 

Whilst Trixie was in the bathroom, Katya took the opportunity to clean the hotel room, putting the dirty plates and trays outside in the corridor. The pillow she’d raised Trixie’s foot up with had been dragged onto the floor as Trixie moved, so Katya returned it to her bed. She didn’t have anything else to do, and she couldn’t hear any water running, so she checked on Trixie.

“You alright in there?”

A muffled, _yeah!_ from the other side of the door reassured Katya, before it was followed up with:

“Actually, can you come help me?”

Katya hesitated, and Trixie shouted again. “The doors open!”

When Katya swung the door open, Trixie grinned at her.

“Oh, can you grab my bag, actually? The shiny one? I wanna change out of this stupid outfit.”

Katya giggled.

“Well… I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

Trixie smiled at Katya’s teasing, tugging off her garters, making the older woman blush. Katya quickly fetched the correct bag, throwing it into the bathroom and trying not to sneak a glimpse of Trixie undressing. Katya loitered outside the bathroom, facing a crappy hotel wardrobe, just in case Trixie fell or needed her.

“Where do you even get those outfits?” Katya joked, trying to keep up the conversation. She wanted Trixie to keep talking, telling herself it was only to ensure that the woman was okay. Trixie’s cackling laugh echoed around the small en suite, through the open door, making Katya jolt.

“I make them. Not any more though… I guess.” Katya could hear Trixie hopping, crashing around in the bathroom.

“You okay?”

“Yeah!” Trixie wrenched open the door, leaning on it heavily. She was standing on one leg still, dressed in a mishmash of dark leggings and a loose pink shirt from two different costumes. Her face was washed clean of makeup, slightly red and blotchy from the steamy hot bathroom. Trixie still looked beautiful, but less like a cartoon and more like a real, living human woman. She grabbed onto Katya with no hesitation, heading directly for the bed once again. They weren’t in bed under Katya’s preferred circumstances, the she could make an exception for Trixie.

The evening continued to pass with easy conversation, both women laid side by side ontop of Katya’s hotel bed duvet. They talked about anything and everything, about Trixie’s teammates, and Katya’s plans for the future, Trixie’s injury and Katya’s family. Hours passed, and Trixie ignored every _buzz_ and _ding_ that her phone made, favouring Katya’s company instead. Katya’s freshly-washed hair left a wet spot on the duvet, but she could never feel cold in the presence of Trixie.

Eventually, during a lull in the conversation, Trixie checked her phone. There were dozens of messages for her, telling her about the competition results and demanding she returned to be with the dance crew. Trixie laughed at the latter type of message, ignoring them.

As it turned out, _Honey Blossom_ came third in the contest. Michelle was furious. She blamed Trixie, and Trixie threatened to resign right then, quit the group and work solo. Katya suggested that she wait until they were back in L.A. to announce her career change, to leave on more favourable terms. Despite her dislike of the bitchy group, Katya didn’t want a fit of anger to hamper Trixie’s future. Trixie begrudgingly agreed. Living with those girls had evidently worn away at Trixie’s sense of self-worth, and despite her natural confidence she needed a push from Katya to realise that she should move on, escape their bullying and exploitation. There was blessedly little tension between the two women, despite the touchy conversation topic, and Katya relished in the comfort and ease with which they communicated. She opted against telling Trixie about the gossip she’d overheard earlier, it would only upset her; she was reasonably certain that Trixie already knew how bitchy her fellow dancers were. Trixie knew she was being used and exploited by the group, and she didn’t need any more motivation to leave.

Katya took a half hour to treat Trixie’s ankle, recommending physio exercises and gently manipulating the tissue in Trixie’s calf and foot with lotion and strong, careful hands. Trixie practically fell asleep under her touch, and Katya switched to massaging her uninjured foot when the first was done. It was calming, and a welcome way to spend her evening. Now, in this warm and cosy bedroom, she couldn’t even imagine watching Alyssa, Ginger, and a bunch of teenage dancers getting drunk in a hotel bar. Not when she could be here.

“Did you do ballet, as a kid?” Katya whispered, afraid to make Trixie jump in her relaxed state.

“Nope, tap.” Trixie replied, “why, is this a ballet injury?”

“Sometimes…” Katya mused, “I did ballet, it always fucked my ankles up.”

“How long until it heals, do you think?”

The unspoken question was there, and Katya felt compelled to answer.

“It will heal, given time. Probably after about 3 months, though.” Trixie sighed. “It’ll be a shorter recovery with physio. You need to be gentle with yourself, though. Lots of rest and gentle exercise. No dancing.” She waggled a finger in Trixie’s face jokingly.

Trixie groaned. “I’m so fired.”

Katya stayed quiet, moving carefully off the bed.

“I could always be a makeup artist.” Trixie pondered, checking her phone and gingerly stretching out both legs.

“Yeah?”

Katya went to wash her hands, leaving the door open so she could hear.

“Yeah. I do all the girls’ hair and makeup already. And sometimes Michelle’s.” Trixie snorted. “As well as making their costumes.”

“That group’s gonna fall apart without you, honey.”

Katya returned to the bed, lying down flat where she could comfortably sleep. Trixie shuffled down to face her, carefully keeping her injured foot elevated. Katya had the aircon turned way down, she hated the white noise, so it was too hot to sleep under any sheets.

“My foot feels way better now, thanks. You’re magic.” Trixie’s voice was deeper and quieter.

“You should come see me in L.A., I’m sure I could work out a discounted rate.” Katya teased, knowing full well she could never charge Trixie. Trixie laughed, and Katya could feel the outbreath on her face.

“I’d like that.” She murmured, turning off the bedside lights. Katya couldn’t see her in the dark, but she could hear Trixie breathing, feel the dip in the mattress. If she thought about it long enough, Katya could convince herself that she felt Trixie’s body heat seeping into her skin, lulling her to sleep.

“I’m sorry I was so whiny today.”

“You’re okay, honey. You’ve had a bad time.”

“Thank you for looking after me.” Trixie whispered.

Katya reached out for Trixie’s hand, her own dry skin held against Trixie’s soft palm. She was glad that they had to stay in Seoul another day, even if neither of them had won anything in the competition. Katya could sleep peacefully, knowing she’d wake up to Trixie’s soft, gentle face in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for the ever-lovely Lulufeca, who is always the first to encourage every single Trixya writer, and I can't thank her enough for her lovely reviews. I wish this was better, but I really do know nothing about K-Pop. I did my best to research and add references where I could, but it still strayed a fairly long way from the original plan. I added in some hurt/comfort from your original suggestion, too! Hopefully that makes up for it.
> 
> I rewrote this twice, which is why the tenses are W A C K. It was a real pain in the neck, but it was a dedicated piece that I felt determined to finish.
> 
> ALSO: im sure you all realise these are characters. I’m not here to vilify michelle visage, sometimes you just gotta make someone a bitch.
> 
> I'm hoping to do ink-vember, with a prompt every other day, so let me know in the comments if you have requests!  
> Hopefully they'll be a lot shorter than this haha (+ sorry for the long note).


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